Travel                 Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
       And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
       But I hear its whistle shrieking.

 

All night there isn’t a train goes by,
       Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
       And hear its engine steaming.

 

My heart is warm with friends I make,
       And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
       No matter where it’s going.